


The Problems with Packing.

by Vander38



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25473562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vander38/pseuds/Vander38
Summary: The Inquisitor has to prepare for the summons to the Winter Palace, Josephine is, of course, flustered.
Relationships: Female Cadash/Josephine Montilyet, Female Inquisitor/Josephine Montilyet
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	The Problems with Packing.

“My Lady Inquisitor, are you packed and ready?” Josephine asks in her trained, melodious voice.

“Jose, it’s fine, I packed.” I say gesturing with a scuffy boot toe towards the single duffle in one corner.

There is a suspiciously long silence and I open my eyes.

Josephine is standing in the shade of the window, hands on hips. There is a fleet of cases, bags and packs around her.

She has that look on her face again, the one that says that I am being uncouth.

Again.

“It’s gonna be fine Jose, I got what I need, pants, socks, trous, couple shirts, what more do I need?” I say it lightly, trying to calm her down.

It doesn’t work.

“It’s the Winter Palace, My Lady, the expectations are immense, you must understand the importance that appearance means to these people, people who hold the fate of the Inquisition and it’s Inquisitor in the balance. A couple of shirts are just not good enough!” Her voice raises in exasperation as the well trained, carefully cultivated mask slips. Her face seems to show the stress of the last three years of hard work she has done for the Inquisition and Thedas and me.

“Jose, these prigs, who are they? Don’t answer that, they don’t matter, they are nothin, they were born, that is it, they didn’t survive Haven, they didn’t bring an army into the Arbor Wilds, they did nothin. Worse than nothin compared to you. Jose, the Inquisition would have died as a rabble in an old Chantry without you. These people ain’t nothing compared to you.” I say then I stand and go to her.

“Jose, the Palace, it’s meant to be nice. So we go, do this damn meetin, tell em to suck taint arse and we enjoy the place. There will be one of them hot pools with the bubbles.” I make my voice as enticing as I can.

I sit her down level with me and I rub her shoulders, not caring that I am probably ruining a very expensive dress.

“Jacuzzi.” She says in a small voice.

I hate being corrected, people know what I mean when I speak so why bother. Most do it once then get thumped.

But Jose, I dunno, she calms me down, makes me see clearly, not red, always has.

“Or a maze with that black fish stuff and bubble wine you like.” I try to put a nice spin in my voice.

“Caviar, Champagne.” Her voice is still small as I rub her neck.

“Jose, if they as half as smart as you then this meetin will be a doddle.” I say with a smile as I kiss the back of her head.

She takes a deep breath.

“Are the shirts clean at least?” She asks with a gesture to my bag.

“Er, yes.” I say in a hopeful way. They’re good enough, I think.

“Sigrun, sometimes you are almost as bad as Sera, I truly love you but seriously, you try my patience.” Her voice is exasperated again.

“None of my shirts have mustard on them!” I say defensively.

“You don’t like mustard!” She ripostes.

“Then none of em have mustard QED.” I say flippantly.

“Sigrun Cadash!” Her tone has a warning as bright as green flame.

“I dunno Jose, I never grew up to this stuff, I never learned stuff like you did. I was twelve before I got a second shirt and that’s cos I nicked it off someone, I don’t know this shit.” I say softly.

“I’m sorry Sigrun, I know I was very fortunate growing up, I forget that not everyone has had my advantages in life." Her brown eyes are soft as she takes my hands.

“I did put loaves in them like you said though.” I say to mollify her.

“Cloves.” She says softly.

“Oh.” I say.

She sighs.

“I already packed for you.” She says after a moment.

“Jose you’re a diamond.” I say as our foreheads meet gently.

“I also laid out your uniform on the ottoman.” She adds.

“Uniform?” I ask, sensing danger.

“Yes, they will be expecting you to look like the Inquisitor that saved the Empress. So that means the formal uniform.” Her tone is one that no one can argue with.

“I had it shredded, burned and thrown out a window!” I say in bewildered anger.

“Yes and I countermanded the order, I knew having the uniform around would be useful, and besides it does make you look quite dashingly heroic.” Her voice is light again with that smile, that damn smile that means that no matter what, she’s won.

“Dashing heroic?” I ask skeptically.

“Yes, you have become quite a popular figure in pulp novels, the dashing Dwarven rogue who fights in ballrooms and seduces noble women, it’s quite ridiculous compared to the truth but such is culture to reality.” She says with a shrug.

“So I’m a character from your smutty books?” I say with a smirk.

“They are not smutty! They are works of literature.” She says defensively.

Her blush matches my hair.

“Jose, I’ve read a couple, they make me blush.” I say, smirking at her discomfort.

“I read them for the characters and stories!” She says in an innocent tone that fools nobody.

“Jose, it’s okay, you’re secrets are safe with me, hell if I’da known they were so good I’da learned to read sooner.” I reply.

She scowls at me.

“Jose it’s fine, trust me, I’m good with secrets.” I say, stroking her cheek.

“You also need to be good at getting changed.” She says softly.

“Now?” I ask, delaying the inevitable.

“If you please.” She says.

“But you’ll see me naked.” I say coyly.

“There are worse ways to spend an afternoon.” She says with another of her weaponized smiles.

I go over to the ottoman and sigh.

“I would happily give my left arm to never need to wear this thing again.” I mutter bitterly. It’s so damn starched I can barely move, makes me look like a nutcracker and if it’s trousers were any tighter I would need to pull them out before I could pull them off.

“Not your right hand?” She says in a happy tone as I get changed.

“I know how much you like what I can do with my right hand.” I say and she gasps in a scandalized way.


End file.
